The amazed faces of the three told how deeply they were committed to the traffic; for a minute they were motionless. Then Moon said, “Ye haven’t finished.” “I say, as it stands, it’s poor wages,” Monjoy said. There was no chair to his hand; he drew up the infant’s stool that the merchant had vacated. His chin was just above the edge of the table, and he took the bright crown-piece and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand. After a minute’s pondering he continued: “This--the plating--is well enough; but suppose there’s better to be done?--Tell me, which of you’ve heard of Bulmer’s workings, Trawden side?” “Eh?” said Moon. “Nobody, since their mother dandled them.” “Of course, of course; my tongue will be running away with me, I suppose. Never mind Bulmer, then. Instead, what about the bellpits all along the Causeway, and the alum mine still working a mile or two over the Edge?” “Come to something, Arthur,” Eastwood interposed. “By and by.--Lead has been found hereabouts, and some of it’s been shipped to Holland, and worked over again, and a tithe of it lost in the working, but a profit made even then. How, think you?” He advanced his chin along the table, flipped away the crown-piece, and quietly pronounced the word “Silver.” By and by he continued. “I’ve had a busyish winter in that garret over your warehouse, Matthew. This is our first meeting since last November, and perhaps I’m over-shooting myself a little. Never mind. At Rimington in Craven, and on Brunghill Moor in Craven, they’ve had it. Lead ore it is, and a test-master has assayed it (Basby, they called him), and it worked out at sixty pounds more or less to the ton.” “In Craven,” observed Matthew Moon, drily. “Well, I’ve been to see it,” Monjoy retorted; “but let me finish. Here, alum and coal we know about. For iron, Holdsworth Dyke is red as a haw with canker-water any day you care to go and look. Noon Nick stones, they’re pure pyrites. Kick up the heather, and all Back o’ th’ Mooin’s red and blue and grey with mineral. Whether it would pay’s another matter; the Dutchmen made it pay.” “It were me closed up th’ last bellpit,” John Raikes remarked; “go on, Arthur; it’s grand hearing.”